None The Wiser
by d0ntbleenk
Summary: Stiles Stilinski, a college dropout with an all too brilliant mind, finds himself working for Derek Hale, one of New York City's most recognized lawyers. Sterek/Suits AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**Heeeeyyy. Lookie what I've started. **_

_**I have this really bad habit of fulfilling everyone's dreams writing-wise, so when I saw that people wanted an AU Sterek fic in the Suits universe, I thought 'what the heck, let me give it a try'. So, just fyi I haven't watched Suits since season 1 so this may be a little rusty in a lot of ways - but I hope some of you guys like it cause I'm kind of happy with how it turned out?**_

_**Oh and basically I'm too lazy to pair characters from Teen Wolf and characters from Suits soooo you can figure it out on your own :))  
**_

* * *

"I don't need an associate, Victoria." The words came out as almost a whine - almost, but not totally, because Derek Hale didn't _whine_. He stated his claim, negotiated.

But Victoria held her ground, towering over him where he sat in his office, all legs and heels and cold, hard stare that meant business. She was probably one of the most inflexible women he'd ever met at times - but then again that was perhaps one of the most prominent reasons he had been hired there at Greenberg and Argent.

Derek stood then, feeling the need to move around, out from under her watchful gaze. "I work better alone, anyway," he insisted, tossing her a look that said sorry-but-true. But it was hardly enough to convince her.

"You're one of the best lawyers in the firm, Derek," Victoria reasoned. "But you're losing your touch and if you want to keep senior partner, you need to do this. And this isn't coming from me." She sighed. "All _I'm _saying is that you need a little... ego boost."

"Ego boost?" He almost laughed, looking up at her.

"Did I say ego 'boost'? I meant ego _leveling out_." The redhead clarified, a small smirk forming on her lips. "I've scheduled some interviews for you this afternoon -"

"_Victoria _-"

"Give it a chance, Derek." She called over her shoulder. "Or lose the position." And with that, she was disappearing through the door before he could protest any further.

* * *

Stiles Stilinski wasn't much. A college dropout living in a small apartment in Manhattan, with a brilliant mind, shitty best friend, and making a living off of taking the LSAT for people almost as desperate as himself - all he'd ever wanted was to be an attorney. With a mind like his, it should have been a _cakewalk_.

But it hadn't been, and without a college degree - let alone a law degree - probably would never be again. Not when he had a sick dad he had to put up in a private hospital and no stable job to do it with. College was just not an option for him at twenty-two years old.

And yet, he had somehow found his way into the office of Derek Hale. _The _top-notch, most recognized and respected lawyer in New York City, working for _the _creme-de-la-creme of law firms in New York City.

Well, he more like _ran _into his office.

Thank that afforementioned shitty best friend for that.

_"You're what?"_

_"It was just a one time thing, man. I was desperate. You can understand that, can't you?"_

_Stiles Stilinski had only been in the apartment for five minutes before his best friend, Scott, had dumped a whopping load of unsavory information on him. He didn't know what to think at first, but then again it doesn't exactly brighten your day to come home and find out your best friend is a drug dealer/pusher/whatever and wants your help, either._

_Scott moved to the table in the middle of the room and lifted the sleek, black briefcase from the top, handing it to his friend, who took it gingerly. He didn't offer any information as to what was inside, but it had combination locks on the top that instantly made Stiles suddenly regret offering his help. _

_"Just think of it as a little extra cash in your pocket," Scott insisted. The briefcase in Stiles' hand suddenly felt heavy with not only its mysterious contents but the weight of his guilt and own desperation as well. "Think of your dad."_

_"I am thinking of my dad," Stiles shot back. "How do you think he'll react when he finds out I'm in jail? In jail because of you and your stupid plans -"_

_"Actually I think he'd finally let out that breath he was holding in, 'cause really, even my mom would have seen it coming." At his words, Stiles rolled his eyes. "So are you in?"_

_Stiles clenched his teeth, looking from the briefcase in his hands to his best friend's face and swallowing hard. He couldn't believe what he was asking him to do - and even worse, he couldn't believe what he was about to do._

_"Fine. What's the plan?"_

"Name?"

Stiles blinked a few times, returning to reality. To the fact that he was standing in the same room as Derek Hale. _The _Derek Hale. But even in the presence of lawyer-loyalty, he could feel the feeling of panic still thrumming in his veins and glanced quickly over his shoulder as he stepped away from the door. It took him a minute to realize that someone was speaking to him.

Derek was watching him from where he stood by the desk that dominated the room. From the way he shut the file he'd been looking through when Stiles had come in, it was clear that he had not been expecting anyone so... soon. But Stiles couldn't help but admire the man: he was all eyebrows, jawline, self-importance, and cold stare - one which had just settled on Stiles himself.

He suddenly became all too aware of the briefcase still in his hands.

And the police that were probably still looking for him.

"Either tell me your name or stop wasting my time." Derek's voice was louder this time around, authoritative.

"Stiles... Stilinski," he said hastily. Geez... had he been staring? "Stiles Stilinski."

"Stiles?"

"Yeah..." A silence hung between them, almost as though Derek was waiting for the punchline, considering the small hint of amusement in his facial features. "That's my name."

Derek considered him for a long moment - this lanky man, cheap suit and all - before taking a few steps towards him. "Fine," he said. "Let's cut to the chase, then. Why do you want to work for Greenberg and Argent? More specifically, me."

Stiles' mouth fell open as his mind registered the words. "Wha- you? Work for_ you_?"

"Yes, _me_," the words came out as almost a growl. He was getting impatient, which was pretty understandable. Stiles elicited that reaction from a lot of people. "Look, I don't have time for -"

"I've always wanted to be an attorney," Stiles finally said with a shrug, moving across the room to the desk. "It's pretty much the only thing I've wanted to be, like, ever -"

"Well tell me a little about yourself. Where did you go to school?"

Stiles swallowed, before shaking his head. "I... didn't," he began. "Well I did, but I was expelled before I could really complete my studies - Does it really matter?" He added hastily, but he knew it did. Of course he knew that. He'd just spilled the beans about having had bare minimum experience in college in front of _Derek Hale._

There was no way in hell he was getting that job now.

"Actually, it does," said Derek, sitting down behind the desk and looking hardly sympathetic as he shook his head. "We only hire from Harvard and you've had no college experience at all -"

"What if I told you something that would make that... that little piece of information seem almost insignificant -"

"Nothing could possibly -"

"- what if I told you I can absorb knowledge like no one else? When I see it, I get it. Just like that." Stiles snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. "I never forget what I've learned." He walked across the room towards the desk. "_And _I've actually passed the bar."

Derek stared at him for a long moment in silence. Stiles couldn't read his expression - if he did, he would say it was a draw between wanting to believe him, wanting to throw him out of his office, and wanting to hit him over the head with a three-hole punch. Needless to say he was rooting for the first option.

After the moment had passed, Derek rose to his feet (Stiles did _not _flinch) and moved around the desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Okay, you're gonna have to prove to me that you're not just showing off before I can believe anything you've just told me," he said finally, looking up at Stiles.

"I can do that," Stiles told him, tossing his briefcase into one of the chairs in front of the desk as he walked around to the opposite side to take Derek's vacated seat. "Shoot."

He fired off all manner of questions - none of which anyone in their right mind would've claimed as 'easy' - and Stiles replied, almost distractedly, answering each without flaw as he messed around on Derek's open laptop. At first he hadn't noticed Stiles' nonchalance, too busy pacing back and forth across the room as he wracked his brain for material, but after a few minutes of drilling him it became pretty obvious.

Derek had been staring at him so long that Stiles was forced to look up from the screen in front of him, looking slightly confused by Derek's impatient look. "What?" Stiles glanced down at the laptop. "Okay, I know it looks like I don't care about this whole 'test of my knowledge' or, you know, whatever you want to call it, but these questions aren't all that challenging."

"Easy for you to say when you've been on a computer the whole time -"

"Yeah, _playing Hearts_." Stiles spun the laptop around to show Derek the screen, and the card game that he had busied himself with for the past half an hour. "Now do you believe me?"

The man looked torn for another moment, but he couldn't deny - the guy was good. Probably better than himself, if that were even possible. No one was better than Derek Hale, but this guy certainly came close, even considering the fact that he hadn't had much of a college education at all.

Derek moved towards the desk and pressed a button on the phone, his eyes lingering on Stiles for one final moment. "Erica, cancel my other appointments. I've just found my new associate."


	2. Chapter 2

He could have sworn he was dreaming. This had to be a dream. How else would he have been handed the one thing he'd ever really, truly wanted in his life at the one time when he was sure he wouldn't have been able to get it?

He was an associate attorney. To _the _Derek Hale. At Greenberg and Argent.

If that wasn't a dream come true he didn't know what was.

But not all dreams were in black and white - there were the grey areas that Stiles would have preferred to avoid with a ten foot pole at all costs. For now, that very irritating grey area came in the form of his shitty best friend Scott McCall. He had been staring down at his phone for almost an entire minute, watching it as it lit up with Scott's face and incoming call. He didn't hit ignore and he didn't answer it, either. He just let it vibrate incessantly, torturing him.

Torturing _both _of them.

"Stiles Stilinski?"

He looked up from his phone just in time to stop before he ran into someone. The same someone that just so happened to be speaking to him. His brows furrowed as he pocketed his phone, eyeing the woman before him. "Er... yeah? That's me."

"My name is Lydia Martin. I'm here to give your orientation." The woman was pretty and lean in her figure, with bouncing red hair that spilled over her shoulders and both nice and fierce blue eyes that made it clear she took no nonsense from anyone. But, then again, Stiles was made of nonsense so that was a challenge he was more than willing to take on.

"They have people for that?" Stiles inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Great, another funny guy. Good to know this firm actually values _smarts _over nice looks and a sense of humor."

Stiles' face brightened. "You think I have nice looks?"

"God," she said under her breath, turning and walking off down the hall without another word; with a smirk, Stiles followed, catching up to her in only a few strides.

"So what do you _really _do?"

"I'm a paralegal," Lydia replied, somewhat reluctantly and without looking at him directly as they continued to walk down the hall. They passed various cubicles and offices, including that of one Victoria Argent, the head of the entire firm and -

"Hey, new guy."

As if on cue, Stiles made the mistake of looking up at the voice. He located the source of it with ease - a man with a nice head of hair, grey pinstriped suit, and a crazy look in his eyes. Stiles glanced at Lydia, but she was just shaking her head. "Leave him alone, Matt."

The man named Matt was standing a few feet away at the door to his office (there was plaque next to the door reading _Matt Daehler, Attorney _next to the door), watching them carefully.

It was really starting to creep Stiles out.

"I just want you to know I'm on to you, new guy," Matt called out as they passed him, and with one last look, he disappeared into his office, sipping from a ceramic mug.

"What does he mean, he's 'on to me'?" Stiles couldn't help but ask, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach that was practically screaming that this man - whom he had never met in his life - knew he was a complete fraud.

"It means he thinks that everyone hired under Derek Hale is either sleeping with the man or being paid off by him-slash-the-company," Lydia explained without missing a beat. They came to a stop in front of the receptionist's desk of an office at the end of the hall. "Down there is the mail room; take a left for the file room; meetings are held in there. Erica, he's all yours."

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but Lydia had already turned and started walking off down the hall in the direction that they had come in. He could have sworn he'd caught a glimpse of a smirk on her lips as she'd passed, but he wasn't sure.

When he turned around, his eyes found another plaque by the door of the office behind the desk: _Derek Hale, Senior Partner._ Stiles could see the man himself through the glass.

"You poor, poor boy," said the blonde woman sitting at the desk in front of him. He looked at her as she slowly shook her head, looking sympathetic. And not, like, I-know-what-you're going-through sympathetic, but I'm-sorry-you're-about-to-walk-into-the-lion's-den-and-_die _sympathetic. Was _no one_ in this building normal?

What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

"I thought I told you to buy new suits."

Stiles had only just stepped into Derek's office when he had decided to scrutinize him even more than... well, he didn't know what the usual was but he figured it might as well have been this. He looked down at himself, taking in the - _mind you _- brand new suit he'd bought the day before.

_"And if you're going to stand any chance with us at all, you're gonna need to buy some new suits. Something a little less... Men's Warehouse."_

_"I don't shop at -"_

_"You do. I can tell," Derek's words were matter-of-fact, and they made Stiles resignedly accept them, too. He hated how this new dream job of his had all of a sudden turned into a fashion contest. Did it really matter what - "And yes, it does matter. We're the best of the best. Therefore, we have to look our best."_

_Stiles narrowed his eyes. "You just used the word 'best' three times in one sentence."_

_"Get some new suits, Stilinski." Stiles opened his mouth to protest once more, but Derek cut him off smoothly. "Don't argue. I expect to see you in my office at the firm first thing Monday morning."_

"These _are _new," Stiles all but whined, pulling feebly at his jacket. "I spent $500 dollars on them."

"For how many?"

"Five... what?"

Derek was rolling his eyes at him, shaking his head. "Just my point being proven," was all he said in response.

Stiles stepped towards him, but Derek held up a hand, motioning for him to stop. He felt both annoyed and confused, and was starting to understand Erica's sympathetic look a little better. Derek was kind of an asshole sometimes.

"What point -"

"Erica, what time is my next meeting again?" He spoke into the speaker of the phone on his desk, holding down a button. The blonde receptionist responded that it was in fifteen minutes and he thanked her, before turning back to Stiles. "Look, I know you didn't go to Harvard but that doesn't mean you have to dress like it -"

"He _what?_"

Erica's shrill voice through the speaker was enough to surprise Derek enough to release the button on the phone, unaware that he hadn't done so sooner. Stiles turned to look over his shoulder, following Derek's gaze. Erica was staring back at them both, eyes wide.

"Come with me," Derek told Stiles finally, moving past him and out of the room, ignoring the gaping look that Erica was still giving them.

It was all Stiles could do _not _to meet her gaze.

Derek remained a few steps ahead of Stiles for a minute, before Stiles finally managed to return to reality and fall into step next to him. Derek only had to glance at him once to see how tense he had become. "Relax. Erica won't tell anyone."

"Are you sure? I mean she seems a little... sneaky," Stiles insisted, glancing back over his shoulder as they turned left at the end of the hall. He could've sworn she was _still _staring.

"Positive. She works for me, therefore she isn't anywhere near sneaky, unless I need her to be." Derek, once again, sounded matter-of-fact. Stiles supposed it was good that he was so self-assured. By comparison, Stiles was falling all over himself at every turn. "Besides, there are worse people here than her."

"Like..."

Either Derek hadn't heard him or he was just ignoring him, because he said, "Now there are three things you need to know to survive at this firm. Number one: Victoria Argent is always right. You don't want to go head to head with her. Ever."

Stiles nodded; this was understandable. She was the head of the firm, after all.

"Number two," Derek went on. "I'm always right."

Stiles made a face. "I think that's subjective -"

"And three - never trust Matt Daehler," he finished, stopping outside of what looked like a meeting room and standing between Stiles and the door. "The man's been bitter since I got senior partner and he didn't, and now that I have an associate, he'll have a new target for his schemes."

"Could've put that in the job description -"

"You didn't apply, remember?" Derek pointed out with a raise of his eyebrow, looking at his watch. "Alright, now I've got to go." He started for the door behind him, before stopping, noticing that Stiles was following him. His hand pressed firmly against his chest, restraining him. "What do you think you're doing?"

Stiles looked confused. "I thought you had a meeting -"

"Yes, _I _do." Derek made sure to emphasize the pronoun in the sentence; Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes. "If you need something to do in the meantime, you can analyze and organize briefs. Get the information from Erica and I'll meet you later."

"Erica?" Stiles looked almost as wary of the idea of going back to her as he sounded.

Derek shook his head. "Oh, for God's sake," was all he said before turning and pushing the door open to the meeting room, leaving Stiles standing out in the hallway alone.

* * *

Of course, Stiles had exactly expected his first day as an associate attorney to go _quite _like this. First he's greeted by a beautiful woman (okay, so maybe that wasn't bad at all), then he's harassed by the least trustworthy guy in the firm, his boss spills the beans to his assistant, and to top it all of he gets no legal action whatsoever. Instead, he gets stuck in a stuffy room full of boxes and files about God knows what, up to his neck in case files.

Nope. Not how he'd imagined it_ at all_.

"Rough day?"

Stiles looked up from what could only be described as angry highlighting, the cap to the one he was using between his lips as his eyes found the redhead hovering in the doorway. The cap fell out of his mouth and into his hand. "Lydia," her name was little more than a whisper when it left his mouth, and she managed a smile - the first he'd seen from her all day. "What gave it away?"

She tilted her head, stepping into the room. "Well, for one you work for Derek Hale," she pointed out. "And second, you're organizing briefs. On your first day." Lydia scrunched up her nose, eyeing the papers that littered the table in front of him. "How long have you been in here?"

"I don't know... a couple of hours?" Stiles yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Had it really been that long since he'd sat down in there?

"Well it's almost 8, and since I'm sure you haven't eaten anything all day, I thought I'd interest you in some leftover takeout. It's Chinese." Lydia brandished a brown paper bag he hadn't noticed she was holding as she sat down at the table across from him.

He just watched her, brows furrowing. "Wait, I thought you hated me?"

Lydia offered a laugh.

"Hated you?" Then it dawned on her. "Oh, you mean this morning? Yeah, sorry about that. I have this test for all the new guys, you know, just to see if they're asshole lawyers like the rest of them." She shrugged. "It's very rare that anyone surprises me."

Stiles leaned his forearms onto the table, smirking. She wasn't looking at him. "I surprised you, didn't I?"

It was a moment or two later, but finally Lydia lifted her eyes to his face, considering him in silence. She sighed, shaking her head. "It's only been a day, Stiles. Too early to tell." She reached into the bag that now sat on the table between them, pulling out two white takeout boxes. "Now, shrimp fried rice or chicken lo mein?"

"Fried rice," he decided with a small laugh, shaking his head as he took the box from her right hand.


End file.
